Face Offs & Cheap Shots (CU Hockey 2)

“I want to know the real reason why you sent the photo.”

Jacobs hesitates, his eyes giving away everything I want to see. “You won fair and square.”

“I didn’t finish the challenge.”

He averts his gaze. “You trashed it enough. You win.”

I move in again, and this time he shuffles back a bit.

His hand trembles, and I might be tipsy, but I know it’s shaking because of me. Because I’m here and getting in his face.

What I don’t know is if he wants to reach for me or punch me.

Maybe both.

Either way, it sends a jolt of that adrenaline I crave racing through me.

I take a risk and hope it’s the former. “Why did you hand me the thing you so desperately want even though you didn’t have to?”

His feet keep retreating, but I don’t let up.

“Why, Jacobs?”

His back hits the door, and my hand flies out to rest beside his head so I’m boxing him in.

His Adam’s apple bounces. “What are you doing?”

“Answer me.” My chest presses against his.

“I …” He squirms and tries to slip away from me, but I grab his waist, holding him in place.

“Tell me,” I whisper.

He shudders as my breath lands on his cheek. “I can’t.”

When he shifts again, I can feel him. He’s hard. I have to force myself to avoid looking down. I’m mesmerized by the thought that he’s hard for me.

“Fuck this.” I close the gap and touch my lips to his.

Just like the forced kiss in the locker room, it starts out slow, but the second my tongue licks into his mouth, he opens for me and pushes back.

No wait, he’s actually pushing back. He shoves me off him. “What the hell are you doing?”

I blink. What am I doing?

So many things run through my head that I could say.

It seemed like a good idea.

I liked kissing you and wanted to do it again.

What comes out is not as clear. Or rational. “You’re not a potato.”

You’re not a potato? What the fuck?

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You hate me.” Jacobs wipes his mouth, and I’m only mildly offended.

“Uh, nope. You hate me. I have nothing against you. Although, all of me was just against you, so there’s that.”

Jacobs doesn’t find it as funny as I do. “What is your deal? Seriously. You drive me crazy. You like when I’m mad. You purposefully go out of your way to piss me off. Then you kiss me?”

“I like when you scowl at me. It’s … kinda hot.”

“And now you’re mocking me. Fuck you.”

“Hmm, well, tempting, but you won’t even let me kiss you.”

He grunts in frustration. “I hate you.”

“Mm, talk dirty to me.”

Jacobs stares at me, wide-eyed and unblinking.

“I liked kissing you, okay! It was hot, and it made me hard, and I swear I’ve jerked off so much to the thought of it, I was worried my dick would fall off. I wanted to see if it was a fluke.”

Jacobs breaks his gaze and glances around his room.

I risk taking another step closer. “You liked it too. The same goes for when I boxed you in just now. You want to fight it but can’t.” Suddenly, we’re back in the spot we were before, only this time, he’s not trying to get away. “And, just so you know? You don’t have to like me to kiss me back. I won’t tell anyone.”

I let my lips linger right near his. If he wants to take this, he needs to do it himself. I don’t want him waking up tomorrow and telling people this was all me.

I kissed him.

I cornered him.

“Jacobs, I—”

“Fucking shut up, Beck.” His mouth slams against mine, and I stumble back, but I don’t get far.

Because his big hands are there to hold me and pull me against him, and I pray to God he doesn’t let go.

11

Jacobs

I plead temporary insanity. That has to be the single, only reason why I’m kissing Beck with absolutely no plans to stop.

I bite his lip and force my tongue deeper into his mouth as he does the same. There’s nothing sweet or teasing about it, and the roughness has me so fucking hard I can’t think straight.

Which seems fitting since there’s nothing straight about this moment.

I wonder if I should freak out about kissing a man, but either that’s coming tomorrow or I’ve questioned my sexuality enough times that this seems completely normal.

The thing I’m struggling with most is that it’s Beck.

He pushes my buttons, he’s a gigantic pain in my ass, and he’s never had to fight for a thing in his life. Even this is coming easily to him. And he makes me feel … like …

I grunt and shove forward, mouth sealed to his as I spin him and slam him into the wall. This time my body blankets his, and my cock grinds into his hip. But it’s not enough, because apparently once I go gay, I want the whole fucking package. Literally.